He'll Always Be Your Son
by SkyBlue-Dreamer
Summary: Near had always been regarded by everyone who knew L to be similar to the detective.  They even had the same eyes.  What if there was an actual reason for that?


**AN: This is rated 'T' for safety.**

He couldn't see the woman from where he sat. The door to the woman had been sealed shut hours ago. She didn't want him with here right now; not when she was in so much pain. Pain he had caused. He wasn't there because he didn't want to hear her screams of agony. He wasn't there because he was selfish, he decided, because he didn't want the guilt to become overbearing.

So he sat there in the hallway, perched on a chair in a crouch. His messy, dark hair flopped over his eyes and he was nervously biting his thumb. His anxiety and the paleness of his skin would make anyone think that he was ill. The dark rings under his eyes added to that assumption.

Physically he was fine though. Mentally… he felt quite sick.

All he could hear was muffled voices. The scrape of a chair. The wheels of a cart.

He couldn't hear her voice. That melodic voice so smooth and beautiful. The voice which had so quietly whispered to him in the late hours of the late. Her voice which told him that she'd never leave him.

Reality can be cruel at times.

The young man shook his head dislodging such morbid accusations, 'She is not dead yet.' He stubbornly told himself.

The obsidian eyed man blinked, realizing that he could also hear another sound. The slow and steady breathing of his companion.

He turned his gaze to study him. The man was many years older than him and wore prescription half-moon glasses. He had his hands clasped in front of him and stood rigid and tense beside the chair. He wore a smart dress suit that seemed very out of place for were he was. His wrinkles seemed deeper then they actually were for he was worried.

He noted that this situation could not be very good for the old man's health.

The dark-eyed man humorously chuckled, imagine that? A hospital not good for one's health!

He returned to gazing at the clock on the opposite wall.

However his companion had noticed his strange behaviour, "L? Are you alright?"

L looked back at his confidant, noting his concerned expression, "Yes. What makes you think I'm not?" L replied in his usual calm monotone.

The older man simply gazed back at him, "You've never liked hospitals much either." He answered, a sympathetic tone evident on his old voice.

"No, Watari, I've never liked the things I associate them with." L replied, turning, once again, to the clock on the wall.

'Health and medicine?" Watari suggested.

"Disease, sickness, cancer, death, comas, helplessness…" L listed them off, in perfect synchronization with the ticking off the red and white clock,

Watari sighed, "L, that's hardly what you are supposed to associate hospitals with."

"Yes, I know." L replied, not put off at all "And the world is supposed to be a wonderful place to live with no crime mucking it all up."

"At least try to see the good in it." Watari murmured

L frowned "Hospitals? Or the world?"

"Both." The old man replied.

"I've seen and solved many cases, Watari. The world is far from perfect." L looked up at his companion again, moving his thumb from his lip, "The fact I'm still a detective should show that I haven't lost all hope for it yet."

Watari shifted, "Yes, but I said 'see the good in it'. I said nothing about hoping you can change the world."

L smiled lightly, "Oh caught me out, did you? Well, it's hard to do that." L lowered his head again, "Sorry."

Watari sighed, knowing the young man was being anything but sincere.

Before long, a harried looking doctor exited the room and signaled over to the two.

L froze up and looked up at his father figure, "Watari?" he asked in a small voice.

The old man smiled down at the detective, "Wait here."

Soon Watari and the doctor were gone.

And L was left all alone, with only the clock for company. Feeling his concern slip back with the disappearance of Watari, L shoved his thumb back into his mouth. Suddenly the world's greatest detective felt very small and helpless. He bit the thumb.

He didn't want to run the numbers. He didn't want the percentage this time.

Before long the door opened and L clamored to his feet. The floor felt unusually cold to the bare soles of his feet.

Watari walked over to L at the speed of a funeral march. Maybe it was, L wondered bitterly.

Before the young man knew it, a small blue bundle was pressed into his arms. On reflex L changed the posture of his arms to adapt to holding the blanket.

"She didn't give him a name." Watari smiled sadly at the young man.

"His name is 'Nate'." L answered adjusting the child so he could get a better look.

The infant was tiny, probably barely the healthy height and weight, L scrutinized. The boy was pale, just like him, and had a small mop of curly white hair. L hoped he didn't turn out to be an albino; he wouldn't want the boy to have even more bad news to deal with as he grew up. As he was a newborn, he eyes were still firmly shut, and caused the messy-haired man to wonder what the child's eyes would look like.

Watari clasped his hands together once more, "Nate Lawliet… A good name."

L lowered Nate back to his previous holding position, unlike all other things he held, he held the child using his thumbs, fingers AND palms. His cargo was far too precious to endanger.

"So, she's gone, Watari?" L inquired softly.

Watari nodded sadly, "I'm afraid so, L."

L covered his eyes with his bangs, but Watari saw stray tears drop down onto the blanket below.

L gently hugged the small bundle to his chest, "Remember to alter the hospital records to say 'Nate River', Watari."

The old man nodded, "Very well, L. But remember… He'll always be your son."

**AN: YES, I LIVE! Too bad my other stories still suffer without an update… Anyway, I'm sorry that the title was a *little* bit of a dead giveaway, but… yeah… working title and such. Wrote this in under half an hour. Yes, I'm dead serious! The idea for this story came from the fact L and Near are very similar in appearance (and a little bit in personality) and the fact the writer of Death Note thought about making Mello and Near L's sons. Well, THAT didn't happen, so HERE IT IS! I WILL get to my other stories again (as soon as I get an idea what I'm doing with them), just have patience. I'm not sure if this will remain a one-shot or be multi-chaptered… I guess it'll depend on my reviews (if I get any). So, if you read, review! And if you review, give me as much critic as you want and tell me if this should forever be a one-shot. Also I made it a rule that all my (new) chapters MUST be 1000 words or more. Love you all!**


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